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Thread: Collective Story Telling

  1. #1
    corgipower's Avatar
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    Default Collective Story Telling

    Well, this has been done in chat (i missed it though) and has been done in the one a day thread, and honestly, i had been thinking of starting a thread for it a couple months ago, just never did, and then forgot until jbell brought it up in the one a day thread

    So...I'll start a story, and others can then add to it. I am not going to tag anyone...We'll see how it goes without the tagging (Might add the tag idea later if things get confusing...)




    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

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    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

    "He--hello," Billie said quietly into the silence on the other end.

    "It's you." This wasn't a question.

    "Yes, it's me." Her heart was pounding so hard she thought the one she had called might even be able to hear it.

    "And?"

    "I've made up my mind. I'm going through with it."

    A sleepy sigh. "I don't suppose I'm going to be able to talk you out of it."

    Billie answered with a sigh of her own. Her cigarette end was now wet and unappealing. 'S'okay, she wouldn't be smoking where she was going anyway.
    "You know that. I told you--once I made a decisio..."

    "Yes, I know," said the voice, irritated now, cutting her off mid-word. "I know." Softer now. But still with that hopeless quality that said no negotiation.

    "I just wanted to let you know. We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?" Billie said, her voice small and weak. Her voice only. Her resolve was as deep as it gets. She only hoped her strength would hold out.

    And before she heard anything else, she hung up the phone, laid the soggy cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed the pillow to her chest and began to sob.
    Visit my web site: http://christinkeck.webs.com
    CK or as they say in Spain, "Yes, What?"

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    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

    "He--hello," Billie said quietly into the silence on the other end.

    "It's you." This wasn't a question.

    "Yes, it's me." Her heart was pounding so hard she thought the one she had called might even be able to hear it.

    "And?"

    "I've made up my mind. I'm going through with it."

    A sleepy sigh. "I don't suppose I'm going to be able to talk you out of it."

    Billie answered with a sigh of her own. Her cigarette end was now wet and unappealing. 'S'okay, she wouldn't be smoking where she was going anyway.
    "You know that. I told you--once I made a decisio..."

    "Yes, I know," said the voice, irritated now, cutting her off mid-word. "I know." Softer now. But still with that hopeless quality that said no negotiation.

    "I just wanted to let you know. We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?" Billie said, her voice small and weak. Her voice only. Her resolve was as deep as it gets. She only hoped her strength would hold out.

    And before she heard anything else, she hung up the phone, laid the soggy cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed the pillow to her chest and began to sob.

    Beneath the sobs there was resentment. "How did I get to this?" "I don't need to explain my decisions to anyone." The sobs became deeper, the crumpled pillow suddenly became the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Billie threw it angrily to the floor, and stormed into the bathroom to wash her tear stained face. "TOMORROW IS NOW", Billie screamed as she reached for the phone...
    Being and nothingness are illusions. Rollo May

  4. #4
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    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

    "He--hello," Billie said quietly into the silence on the other end.

    "It's you." This wasn't a question.

    "Yes, it's me." Her heart was pounding so hard she thought the one she had called might even be able to hear it.

    "And?"

    "I've made up my mind. I'm going through with it."

    A sleepy sigh. "I don't suppose I'm going to be able to talk you out of it."

    Billie answered with a sigh of her own. Her cigarette end was now wet and unappealing. 'S'okay, she wouldn't be smoking where she was going anyway.
    "You know that. I told you--once I made a decisio..."

    "Yes, I know," said the voice, irritated now, cutting her off mid-word. "I know." Softer now. But still with that hopeless quality that said no negotiation.

    "I just wanted to let you know. We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?" Billie said, her voice small and weak. Her voice only. Her resolve was as deep as it gets. She only hoped her strength would hold out.

    And before she heard anything else, she hung up the phone, laid the soggy cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed the pillow to her chest and began to sob.

    Beneath the sobs there was resentment. "How did I get to this?" "I don't need to explain my decisions to anyone." The sobs became deeper, the crumpled pillow suddenly became the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Billie threw it angrily to the floor, and stormed into the bathroom to wash her tear stained face. "TOMORROW IS NOW", Billie screamed as she reached for the phone...

    Just as she reached, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence. Billie felt an eerie sense of deja vu. Hadn't this all happened before? But this time something was different.

  5. #5
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    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

    "He--hello," Billie said quietly into the silence on the other end.

    "It's you." This wasn't a question.

    "Yes, it's me." Her heart was pounding so hard she thought the one she had called might even be able to hear it.

    "And?"

    "I've made up my mind. I'm going through with it."

    A sleepy sigh. "I don't suppose I'm going to be able to talk you out of it."

    Billie answered with a sigh of her own. Her cigarette end was now wet and unappealing. 'S'okay, she wouldn't be smoking where she was going anyway.
    "You know that. I told you--once I made a decisio..."

    "Yes, I know," said the voice, irritated now, cutting her off mid-word. "I know." Softer now. But still with that hopeless quality that said no negotiation.

    "I just wanted to let you know. We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?" Billie said, her voice small and weak. Her voice only. Her resolve was as deep as it gets. She only hoped her strength would hold out.

    And before she heard anything else, she hung up the phone, laid the soggy cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed the pillow to her chest and began to sob.

    Beneath the sobs there was resentment. "How did I get to this?" "I don't need to explain my decisions to anyone." The sobs became deeper, the crumpled pillow suddenly became the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Billie threw it angrily to the floor, and stormed into the bathroom to wash her tear stained face. "TOMORROW IS NOW", Billie screamed as she reached for the phone...

    Just as she reached, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence. Billie felt an eerie sense of deja vu. Hadn't this all happened before? But this time something was different.

    As she automatically reached for the cigarette it wasn't there anymore. There wasn't a pillow or for that matter she wasn't in her room either. As she squinted her eyes to focus on what was in front of her she heard faint voices......
    ***********************
    We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.
    ~Joseph Campbell

    There are three kinds of people : Those who can count and those that can't.




  6. #6
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    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

    "He--hello," Billie said quietly into the silence on the other end.

    "It's you." This wasn't a question.

    "Yes, it's me." Her heart was pounding so hard she thought the one she had called might even be able to hear it.

    "And?"

    "I've made up my mind. I'm going through with it."

    A sleepy sigh. "I don't suppose I'm going to be able to talk you out of it."

    Billie answered with a sigh of her own. Her cigarette end was now wet and unappealing. 'S'okay, she wouldn't be smoking where she was going anyway.
    "You know that. I told you--once I made a decisio..."

    "Yes, I know," said the voice, irritated now, cutting her off mid-word. "I know." Softer now. But still with that hopeless quality that said no negotiation.

    "I just wanted to let you know. We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?" Billie said, her voice small and weak. Her voice only. Her resolve was as deep as it gets. She only hoped her strength would hold out.

    And before she heard anything else, she hung up the phone, laid the soggy cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed the pillow to her chest and began to sob.

    Beneath the sobs there was resentment. "How did I get to this?" "I don't need to explain my decisions to anyone." The sobs became deeper, the crumpled pillow suddenly became the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Billie threw it angrily to the floor, and stormed into the bathroom to wash her tear stained face. "TOMORROW IS NOW", Billie screamed as she reached for the phone...

    Just as she reached, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence. Billie felt an eerie sense of deja vu. Hadn't this all happened before? But this time something was different.

    As she automatically reached for the cigarette it wasn't there anymore. There wasn't a pillow or for that matter she wasn't in her room either. As she squinted her eyes to focus on what was in front of her she heard faint voices......

    Billie's head hurt. Throbbing pain in her ears and skull, aching limbs. But that didn't make any sense. She felt the coldness of the ground under her cheek as she rolled over, realizing she was no longer at her home.

    She strained to make out what the voices were saying, where they were coming from as blackness overcame her along with a wave of nausea.

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  7. #7
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    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

    "He--hello," Billie said quietly into the silence on the other end.

    "It's you." This wasn't a question.

    "Yes, it's me." Her heart was pounding so hard she thought the one she had called might even be able to hear it.

    "And?"

    "I've made up my mind. I'm going through with it."

    A sleepy sigh. "I don't suppose I'm going to be able to talk you out of it."

    Billie answered with a sigh of her own. Her cigarette end was now wet and unappealing. 'S'okay, she wouldn't be smoking where she was going anyway.
    "You know that. I told you--once I made a decisio..."

    "Yes, I know," said the voice, irritated now, cutting her off mid-word. "I know." Softer now. But still with that hopeless quality that said no negotiation.

    "I just wanted to let you know. We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?" Billie said, her voice small and weak. Her voice only. Her resolve was as deep as it gets. She only hoped her strength would hold out.

    And before she heard anything else, she hung up the phone, laid the soggy cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed the pillow to her chest and began to sob.

    Beneath the sobs there was resentment. "How did I get to this?" "I don't need to explain my decisions to anyone." The sobs became deeper, the crumpled pillow suddenly became the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Billie threw it angrily to the floor, and stormed into the bathroom to wash her tear stained face. "TOMORROW IS NOW", Billie screamed as she reached for the phone...

    Just as she reached, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence. Billie felt an eerie sense of deja vu. Hadn't this all happened before? But this time something was different.

    As she automatically reached for the cigarette it wasn't there anymore. There wasn't a pillow or for that matter she wasn't in her room either. As she squinted her eyes to focus on what was in front of her she heard faint voices......

    Billie's head hurt. Throbbing pain in her ears and skull, aching limbs. But that didn't make any sense. She felt the coldness of the ground under her cheek as she rolled over, realizing she was no longer at her home.

    She strained to make out what the voices were saying, where they were coming from as blackness overcame her along with a wave of nausea.

    "Wha the..." was all she had time to say before the singing started.

    Singing? Huh? Her brain was overloaded and couldn't process this. A tiny voice from the files room in her skull told her she was listening to the Rolling Stones. She stomped on the thought immediately--there can't be Rolling Stones music in here--there just can't--can there?

    She had to get a grip before she became a gibbering idiot. Lord knows what she might say if she didn't get herself under control. First--where was she?

    The nausea had subsided and Billie chanced a look around, though it did her no good at all. It was so dark that she coudln't make out any features of the landscape she was in now. But it was a landscape. Billie was positive about that. The ground under her cheek just after the flash had been cold and hard, but there was the unmistakeable scent and feel of being on the earth, and not in her bedroom. No moon, no stars, no light--pitch blackness all around. She struggled with that one a moment, but then the answer came to her: she was in a cave. Even outdoors in the most remote locations, there would be some ambient light as one's eyes adjusted. Only one place would it be impossible to find even a single photon--inside a cave. That accounted for the hard cold ground, too.

    Billie congratulated herself, cautiously. Little baby steps toward understanding. She still hadn't moved. She allowed herself to sniff a bit and her nose told her that a cave was probably the correct answer; the scent was a mixture of old stone, dirt, and bat guano from centuries past.

    The voices were indistinct as yet--so she put those aside. The singing was fainter now, but still the oddest feature of all:

    Ah cain't git no
    Sat tis fack shun
    Ah cain't git no
    Good re ACK shun


    Jagger wasn't the world's most clear enunciator, but his style was iconic.

    Someone was playing a tape, or a radio, then. Probably a tape--radios rarely worked underground. The music wasn't as loud as the voices, which were becoming louder as they approached her. She stayed on her back, still as a log, going limp and keeping her eyes closed. The voices stopped.

    A light, as blinding as the first two she'd encountered that night, stabbed the darkness and caused her to flinch. Even with her eyes closed the light was overpowering after the complete darkness she was in.

    Voice one, a man with an accent:
    "Zat her? She 'live?"
    Voice two, a lighter tenor, unaccented and soft:
    "Yes. She's alive. The transfer was successful. Let's get her up to the lab."
    Visit my web site: http://christinkeck.webs.com
    CK or as they say in Spain, "Yes, What?"

  8. #8
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    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

    "He--hello," Billie said quietly into the silence on the other end.

    "It's you." This wasn't a question.

    "Yes, it's me." Her heart was pounding so hard she thought the one she had called might even be able to hear it.

    "And?"

    "I've made up my mind. I'm going through with it."

    A sleepy sigh. "I don't suppose I'm going to be able to talk you out of it."

    Billie answered with a sigh of her own. Her cigarette end was now wet and unappealing. 'S'okay, she wouldn't be smoking where she was going anyway.
    "You know that. I told you--once I made a decisio..."

    "Yes, I know," said the voice, irritated now, cutting her off mid-word. "I know." Softer now. But still with that hopeless quality that said no negotiation.

    "I just wanted to let you know. We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?" Billie said, her voice small and weak. Her voice only. Her resolve was as deep as it gets. She only hoped her strength would hold out.

    And before she heard anything else, she hung up the phone, laid the soggy cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed the pillow to her chest and began to sob.

    Beneath the sobs there was resentment. "How did I get to this?" "I don't need to explain my decisions to anyone." The sobs became deeper, the crumpled pillow suddenly became the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Billie threw it angrily to the floor, and stormed into the bathroom to wash her tear stained face. "TOMORROW IS NOW", Billie screamed as she reached for the phone...

    Just as she reached, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence. Billie felt an eerie sense of deja vu. Hadn't this all happened before? But this time something was different.

    As she automatically reached for the cigarette it wasn't there anymore. There wasn't a pillow or for that matter she wasn't in her room either. As she squinted her eyes to focus on what was in front of her she heard faint voices......

    Billie's head hurt. Throbbing pain in her ears and skull, aching limbs. But that didn't make any sense. She felt the coldness of the ground under her cheek as she rolled over, realizing she was no longer at her home.

    She strained to make out what the voices were saying, where they were coming from as blackness overcame her along with a wave of nausea.

    "Wha the..." was all she had time to say before the singing started.

    Singing? Huh? Her brain was overloaded and couldn't process this. A tiny voice from the files room in her skull told her she was listening to the Rolling Stones. She stomped on the thought immediately--there can't be Rolling Stones music in here--there just can't--can there?

    She had to get a grip before she became a gibbering idiot. Lord knows what she might say if she didn't get herself under control. First--where was she?

    The nausea had subsided and Billie chanced a look around, though it did her no good at all. It was so dark that she coudln't make out any features of the landscape she was in now. But it was a landscape. Billie was positive about that. The ground under her cheek just after the flash had been cold and hard, but there was the unmistakeable scent and feel of being on the earth, and not in her bedroom. No moon, no stars, no light--pitch blackness all around. She struggled with that one a moment, but then the answer came to her: she was in a cave. Even outdoors in the most remote locations, there would be some ambient light as one's eyes adjusted. Only one place would it be impossible to find even a single photon--inside a cave. That accounted for the hard cold ground, too.

    Billie congratulated herself, cautiously. Little baby steps toward understanding. She still hadn't moved. She allowed herself to sniff a bit and her nose told her that a cave was probably the correct answer; the scent was a mixture of old stone, dirt, and bat guano from centuries past.

    The voices were indistinct as yet--so she put those aside. The singing was fainter now, but still the oddest feature of all:

    Ah cain't git no
    Sat tis fack shun
    Ah cain't git no
    Good re ACK shun

    Jagger wasn't the world's most clear enunciator, but his style was iconic.

    Someone was playing a tape, or a radio, then. Probably a tape--radios rarely worked underground. The music wasn't as loud as the voices, which were becoming louder as they approached her. She stayed on her back, still as a log, going limp and keeping her eyes closed. The voices stopped.

    A light, as blinding as the first two she'd encountered that night, stabbed the darkness and caused her to flinch. Even with her eyes closed the light was overpowering after the complete darkness she was in.

    Voice one, a man with an accent:
    "Zat her? She 'live?"
    Voice two, a lighter tenor, unaccented and soft:
    "Yes. She's alive. The transfer was successful. Let's get her up to the lab."

    Someone said I was alive? The lab? Oh no, it's still there. Billie could hear underneath the voices, a faint hum, and strange clicks. Involuntarily, she reached for a phone that wasn't there. Gruff hands went underneath her shoulders lifting her, she did not resist. It was comforting in a bizarre way, she did not have to struggle, she leaned into the taut muscles and drifted. Billie floated into a dream, a dream of a party on a beach, where she met.....
    Being and nothingness are illusions. Rollo May

  9. #9
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    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

    "He--hello," Billie said quietly into the silence on the other end.

    "It's you." This wasn't a question.

    "Yes, it's me." Her heart was pounding so hard she thought the one she had called might even be able to hear it.

    "And?"

    "I've made up my mind. I'm going through with it."

    A sleepy sigh. "I don't suppose I'm going to be able to talk you out of it."

    Billie answered with a sigh of her own. Her cigarette end was now wet and unappealing. 'S'okay, she wouldn't be smoking where she was going anyway.
    "You know that. I told you--once I made a decisio..."

    "Yes, I know," said the voice, irritated now, cutting her off mid-word. "I know." Softer now. But still with that hopeless quality that said no negotiation.

    "I just wanted to let you know. We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?" Billie said, her voice small and weak. Her voice only. Her resolve was as deep as it gets. She only hoped her strength would hold out.

    And before she heard anything else, she hung up the phone, laid the soggy cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed the pillow to her chest and began to sob.

    Beneath the sobs there was resentment. "How did I get to this?" "I don't need to explain my decisions to anyone." The sobs became deeper, the crumpled pillow suddenly became the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Billie threw it angrily to the floor, and stormed into the bathroom to wash her tear stained face. "TOMORROW IS NOW", Billie screamed as she reached for the phone...

    Just as she reached, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence. Billie felt an eerie sense of deja vu. Hadn't this all happened before? But this time something was different.

    As she automatically reached for the cigarette it wasn't there anymore. There wasn't a pillow or for that matter she wasn't in her room either. As she squinted her eyes to focus on what was in front of her she heard faint voices......

    Billie's head hurt. Throbbing pain in her ears and skull, aching limbs. But that didn't make any sense. She felt the coldness of the ground under her cheek as she rolled over, realizing she was no longer at her home.

    She strained to make out what the voices were saying, where they were coming from as blackness overcame her along with a wave of nausea.

    "Wha the..." was all she had time to say before the singing started.

    Singing? Huh? Her brain was overloaded and couldn't process this. A tiny voice from the files room in her skull told her she was listening to the Rolling Stones. She stomped on the thought immediately--there can't be Rolling Stones music in here--there just can't--can there?

    She had to get a grip before she became a gibbering idiot. Lord knows what she might say if she didn't get herself under control. First--where was she?

    The nausea had subsided and Billie chanced a look around, though it did her no good at all. It was so dark that she coudln't make out any features of the landscape she was in now. But it was a landscape. Billie was positive about that. The ground under her cheek just after the flash had been cold and hard, but there was the unmistakeable scent and feel of being on the earth, and not in her bedroom. No moon, no stars, no light--pitch blackness all around. She struggled with that one a moment, but then the answer came to her: she was in a cave. Even outdoors in the most remote locations, there would be some ambient light as one's eyes adjusted. Only one place would it be impossible to find even a single photon--inside a cave. That accounted for the hard cold ground, too.

    Billie congratulated herself, cautiously. Little baby steps toward understanding. She still hadn't moved. She allowed herself to sniff a bit and her nose told her that a cave was probably the correct answer; the scent was a mixture of old stone, dirt, and bat guano from centuries past.

    The voices were indistinct as yet--so she put those aside. The singing was fainter now, but still the oddest feature of all:

    Ah cain't git no
    Sat tis fack shun
    Ah cain't git no
    Good re ACK shun

    Jagger wasn't the world's most clear enunciator, but his style was iconic.

    Someone was playing a tape, or a radio, then. Probably a tape--radios rarely worked underground. The music wasn't as loud as the voices, which were becoming louder as they approached her. She stayed on her back, still as a log, going limp and keeping her eyes closed. The voices stopped.

    A light, as blinding as the first two she'd encountered that night, stabbed the darkness and caused her to flinch. Even with her eyes closed the light was overpowering after the complete darkness she was in.

    Voice one, a man with an accent:
    "Zat her? She 'live?"
    Voice two, a lighter tenor, unaccented and soft:
    "Yes. She's alive. The transfer was successful. Let's get her up to the lab."

    Someone said I was alive? The lab? Oh no, it's still there. Billie could hear underneath the voices, a faint hum, and strange clicks. Involuntarily, she reached for a phone that wasn't there. Gruff hands went underneath her shoulders lifting her, she did not resist. It was comforting in a bizarre way, she did not have to struggle, she leaned into the taut muscles and drifted. Billie floated into a dream, a dream of a party on a beach, where she first met Dr. Ambrosia, biopharmacist.

    Dr. Ambrosia, the most intelligent human being on the planet. Connected with all the big organizations, universities, medical associations and the US government. She was involved in classified sequencing research and prostetics. A very kind and sensitive, but determined lady. She would win at all costs, especially if it didn't involve her stellar reputation.

    Billie watched her in awe. The confident way in which she drew attention, the slow sexy way she sipped her drink, and the way she paused waiting for her attendants to light her cigarette. Momentarily, Billie recalled, seeing a darkness under Dr. Ambrosi's eyes, when a strange dark haired man spoke to her. Envy?

    Bille, felt the cushioned seat as she was gently released into it by her captors. Captors, or maybe saviors - she wasn't sure.

    Billie, blinked and shook her head. Long red tresses moved and swayed. Billie, laughed softly -not only am I alive, but I am beautiful. She looked around, it was the lab - ammonium sulfate, pet ether, centrifuges, extraction columns, amino acid analyzers, and sequencers. Billie wondered - "How do I know this stuff?" The drone of high performance computers barely perciptible, and still there were the humming and clicking sounds that had caused her previously to reach for the phone.

    One of the men who had brought her back here, to this place was speaking into a small computer - "Yes, the 25 million dollar transfer had been successful, and we have her - instructions?" The other man was standing nearby, playing with cables. Billie asked - "What does a girl have to do around here to get a cigarette?"
    Last edited by stickinthemud; 09-09-2007 at 04:46 PM. Reason: typos
    Being and nothingness are illusions. Rollo May

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    Billie peered through the blinds. The roar of thunder, the flash of lightning, a summer rain storm. Billie looked at the clock by the bed, the red numbers glowing in the dark room. 2:15 in the morning. The sounds of August were enhanced by the wail of an ambulance and the swirling red and blue lights from the police cars below the window.

    Billie chewed on the filtered end of an unlit cigarette. There would be no going back to bed. There would be no more delaying the inevitable. Billie picked up the phone and dialed a number she had long ago committed to memory.

    Just as a voice on the other end of the line said a sleepy hello, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence.

    "He--hello," Billie said quietly into the silence on the other end.

    "It's you." This wasn't a question.

    "Yes, it's me." Her heart was pounding so hard she thought the one she had called might even be able to hear it.

    "And?"

    "I've made up my mind. I'm going through with it."

    A sleepy sigh. "I don't suppose I'm going to be able to talk you out of it."

    Billie answered with a sigh of her own. Her cigarette end was now wet and unappealing. 'S'okay, she wouldn't be smoking where she was going anyway.
    "You know that. I told you--once I made a decisio..."

    "Yes, I know," said the voice, irritated now, cutting her off mid-word. "I know." Softer now. But still with that hopeless quality that said no negotiation.

    "I just wanted to let you know. We'll talk tomorrow, 'kay?" Billie said, her voice small and weak. Her voice only. Her resolve was as deep as it gets. She only hoped her strength would hold out.

    And before she heard anything else, she hung up the phone, laid the soggy cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed the pillow to her chest and began to sob.

    Beneath the sobs there was resentment. "How did I get to this?" "I don't need to explain my decisions to anyone." The sobs became deeper, the crumpled pillow suddenly became the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Billie threw it angrily to the floor, and stormed into the bathroom to wash her tear stained face. "TOMORROW IS NOW", Billie screamed as she reached for the phone...

    Just as she reached, there was a flash of light brighter than any lightning and a roar louder than thunder. All was eerily quiet and still, the rhythmic sound of wind driven raindrops on the side of the house was the only disturbance to the dead silence. Billie felt an eerie sense of deja vu. Hadn't this all happened before? But this time something was different.

    As she automatically reached for the cigarette it wasn't there anymore. There wasn't a pillow or for that matter she wasn't in her room either. As she squinted her eyes to focus on what was in front of her she heard faint voices......

    Billie's head hurt. Throbbing pain in her ears and skull, aching limbs. But that didn't make any sense. She felt the coldness of the ground under her cheek as she rolled over, realizing she was no longer at her home.

    She strained to make out what the voices were saying, where they were coming from as blackness overcame her along with a wave of nausea.

    "Wha the..." was all she had time to say before the singing started.

    Singing? Huh? Her brain was overloaded and couldn't process this. A tiny voice from the files room in her skull told her she was listening to the Rolling Stones. She stomped on the thought immediately--there can't be Rolling Stones music in here--there just can't--can there?

    She had to get a grip before she became a gibbering idiot. Lord knows what she might say if she didn't get herself under control. First--where was she?

    The nausea had subsided and Billie chanced a look around, though it did her no good at all. It was so dark that she coudln't make out any features of the landscape she was in now. But it was a landscape. Billie was positive about that. The ground under her cheek just after the flash had been cold and hard, but there was the unmistakeable scent and feel of being on the earth, and not in her bedroom. No moon, no stars, no light--pitch blackness all around. She struggled with that one a moment, but then the answer came to her: she was in a cave. Even outdoors in the most remote locations, there would be some ambient light as one's eyes adjusted. Only one place would it be impossible to find even a single photon--inside a cave. That accounted for the hard cold ground, too.

    Billie congratulated herself, cautiously. Little baby steps toward understanding. She still hadn't moved. She allowed herself to sniff a bit and her nose told her that a cave was probably the correct answer; the scent was a mixture of old stone, dirt, and bat guano from centuries past.

    The voices were indistinct as yet--so she put those aside. The singing was fainter now, but still the oddest feature of all:

    Ah cain't git no
    Sat tis fack shun
    Ah cain't git no
    Good re ACK shun

    Jagger wasn't the world's most clear enunciator, but his style was iconic.

    Someone was playing a tape, or a radio, then. Probably a tape--radios rarely worked underground. The music wasn't as loud as the voices, which were becoming louder as they approached her. She stayed on her back, still as a log, going limp and keeping her eyes closed. The voices stopped.

    A light, as blinding as the first two she'd encountered that night, stabbed the darkness and caused her to flinch. Even with her eyes closed the light was overpowering after the complete darkness she was in.

    Voice one, a man with an accent:
    "Zat her? She 'live?"
    Voice two, a lighter tenor, unaccented and soft:
    "Yes. She's alive. The transfer was successful. Let's get her up to the lab."

    Someone said I was alive? The lab? Oh no, it's still there. Billie could hear underneath the voices, a faint hum, and strange clicks. Involuntarily, she reached for a phone that wasn't there. Gruff hands went underneath her shoulders lifting her, she did not resist. It was comforting in a bizarre way, she did not have to struggle, she leaned into the taut muscles and drifted. Billie floated into a dream, a dream of a party on a beach, where she first met Dr. Ambrosia, biopharmacist.

    Dr. Ambrosia, the most intelligent human being on the planet. Connected with all the big organizations, universities, medical associations and the US government. She was involved in classified sequencing research and prostetics. A very kind and sensitive, but determined lady. She would win at all costs, especially if it didn't involve her stellar reputation.

    Billie watched her in awe. The confident way in which she drew attention, the slow sexy way she sipped her drink, and the way she paused waiting for her attendants to light her cigarette. Momentarily, Billie recalled, seeing a darkness under Dr. Ambrosi's eyes, when a strange dark haired man spoke to her. Envy?

    Bille, felt the cushioned seat as she was gently released into it by her captors. Captors, or maybe saviors - she wasn't sure.

    Billie, blinked and shook her head. Long red tresses moved and swayed. Billie, laughed softly -not only am I alive, but I am beautiful. She looked around, it was the lab - ammonium sulfate, pet ether, centrifuges, extraction columns, amino acid analyzers, and sequencers. Billie wondered - "How do I know this stuff?" The drone of high performance computers barely perciptible, and still there were the humming and clicking sounds that had caused her previously to reach for the phone.

    One of the men who had brought her back here, to this place was speaking into a small computer - "Yes, the 25 million dollar transfer had been successful, and we have her - instructions?" The other man was standing nearby, playing with cables. Billie asked - "What does a girl have to do around here to get a cigarette?"

    “You can’t smoke here” was the reply, “some of these chemicals are explosive”. Billie, sighed, well that ends that escape plan. Her head was throbbing, “Can I have a glass of water?” she asked. “No” was the reply “the doctor has to examine you first, and there are some tests” was the gruff reply. Billie, thought “Doctor, what doctor – who?” “Tests, huh, have I been abducted by aliens?” She chuckled weakly at the thought. It relaxed her, she knew that the tests would have to be by force – nobody was going to run tests on Billie against her will, oh no, not today, not ever.

    The man speaking into the computer, turned for a moment. He looked at her with a far-a-way expression, almost longingly. Billie couldn’t be sure the lighting was not that good. He spoke, “Time to go, don’t give us a hard time, it’ll be easier for you”. Billie, blinked, swallowed, and seemingly agreed. She stood up, and walked towards the man speaking into the computer. He led her, followed by the second man, to an elevator and they went up. Momentarily, Billie, felt nausea, she swallowed again.

    Finally, the door opened into another lab; in the middle stood the dark haired man and a vat. Billie’s eyes grew wide, it was in that vat. Fear grew inside her, the closer she got to the vat. As the thing submerged in the vat seemingly turned to face her, she recognized the half face, with the swirling grayish mass on the left, and passed out.
    Being and nothingness are illusions. Rollo May

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